


In Which Derek is Stiles' Baby Daddy

by mfingalpha (nomz_bunny)



Series: In Which Stiles and Derek Make Babies [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, College Student Stiles, Confused Stiles, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Homophobia, Humor, Kidnapping, Knotting, M/M, Mpreg, NO NON-CON BETWEEN ANY OF THE PAIRINGS TAGGED, Non-Consensual Touching, Pack Bonding, Pack Cuddles, Pack Dynamics, Pack Feels, Pack Mother Stiles Stilinski, Protective Derek, Protective!Pack, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-15
Updated: 2013-09-11
Packaged: 2017-12-05 09:52:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/721716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nomz_bunny/pseuds/mfingalpha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"<em>Oh my god health class was so very useless and I'm pregnant with a baby in the oven--</em>a bun in the oven! I'm WITH CHILD. Up the duff. <em>On stork watch. </em>In the pudding club! I'll be eating for <em>two</em>. Congratulations, Derek," Stiles sounded more hysterical with each euphemism his brain came up with and by then, he was practically shrieking. "<em>Your boys made the swim team.</em>"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Which Derek is a Fail!Wolf, Stiles Freaks Out, and Deaton is Called

Derek Hale, ferocious Alpha wolf of the Beacon Hills Pack, defeater of numerous evil supernatural beings, six foot tall, muscular, able to slam people into walls, owner of a jet black fancy Camaro, and with the face of a serial killer--woke up from his dead faint to voices arguing above him and a glassful of ice-cold water splashed on him.

"Oh! He's awake!" a voice sounded from his right. Derek blearily identified it as Allison Argent, hunter fiancée of Scott McCall, head beta of Derek's pack.

"Oh good, he's out of his swooning state," sneered a different, deeper voice that Derek linked to Jackson Whittemore, a strange werewolf that had lizard tendencies (Stiles tended to call him the "were-lizard"). Derek was about to open his mouth to protest his blackout (and why had he blacked out anyways?) being called a "swoon" when a second splash of water was dumped over him. This time, ice cubes clattered against his teeth where his mouth had parted to talk and Derek choked a bit on the water that made it in.

"I'm not sure that he's totally awake yet guys, maybe we should dump some more water on him," someone snarled viciously as more water gets dumped onto Derek. Derek at this point is fully awake and swings his hands up to block most of the water and ice cubes (was it just him, or was there more ice this time?) and to wipe his eyes so he can see clearly. From the empty glass in his hand and the bucket of ice next to him, Derek surmises that Stiles is the one that was cruelly pouring water on him.

"Stiles," croaked Derek before clearing his throat a bit and starting over. "Stiles, why are you--" he splutters as Stiles tosses one last glassful of ice water at him before Isaac snatches the ice bucket away --bless the boy.

"Why?" asked Stiles, voice a higher pitch than usual, " _Why?!_ He asks me  _why_  I'm freaking out, yes?"

"Uh..." Derek, ferocious Alpha of the Beacon Hills  _Werewolf_ Pack is speechless and a bit scared of what the wrong answer would do.

" _Because you knocked me up you asshole!_ " Stiles snarled, sounding remarkably like a werewolf and terrifyingly like Derek in a rage. Knocking aside the restraining hands on him (although Derek noticed that they weren't very restraining, more soothing and worried), he launched himself at Derek and grabbed a hold of Derek's shoulders and shook him roughly. Derek finally reacted and dragged Stiles off of him to hold him at arms length.

"What--oh my god." Derek blinked as he remembered the conversation before he apparently fell unconscious.

" _Yes. Yes, oh my_  god." Stiles snapped at Derek, "Except for you, it's more  _oh my god I'm Stiles' baby daddy_. For me, it's more like  _oh my god health class was so very useless and I'm pregnant with a baby in the oven--_ a bun in the oven! I'm WITH CHILD. Up the duff.  _On stork watch._ In the pudding club! I'll be eating for  _two_. Congratulations, Derek," Stiles sounded more hysterical with each euphemism his brain came up with and by then, he was practically shrieking. " _Your boys made the swim team._ "

"What?" Allison whispered to Scott in the background, none of the pack had deigned to interfere with Stiles' hysterical shrieking. Derek was still too much in shock to do much other than stare at Stiles like a ton of bricks had not only hit him, but had animated and started playing hit the piñata with Derek as the piñata.

"Uh, like, you know? Sperm...boys...swimming...team?" Scott whispered awkwardly back at Allison. She seemed amused and pulled out her phone to tap it into her notes. Scott glanced at it, a bit worried about his own future.

Lydia was gleefully taking a video of the whole fiasco.

Stiles was still going strong.

"I am preggers. Preggo, preggy, preg _nant_. I am a  _male freak of nature that is pregnant--_ oh wait! It's not me, it's  _all totally you._ With your  _freak of nature sperm_." And with that, Stiles stops to take a breather.

Derek kind of closes his jaw with an audible snap and croaks out a "oh my god" before fainting again.

Stiles looks resignedly at the prone body of his lover, Alpha, and  _baby daddy_ before climbing off him and starting to walk towards the kitchen before turning around suddenly and aiming a spiteful kick at Derek's flank.

"Ok. So while Papa Wolf is out of commission, we are going to re-heat the food and eat it all. And then we are going to each get out laptops and research the fuck out of this." The pack nods in agreement with Stiles words, heading towards the kitchen to start bringing out plates and silverware. Scott lingers though, and tilts his head at Stiles, asking if he's feeling ok.

"I'm...fine, I guess? I'm just really freaked out and my whole take on life has just been altered," Stiles sighs and shakes his head. "Maybe you should call Deaton, he might know something about this." Scott nods and walks down the hallway, pulling out his phone as he went.

"Goddamit," Stiles muttered as he raked his fingers through his hands. Life had been so much simpler a couple hours ago when he'd been sucking Derek's brain through his dick. "I'm going to murder you, Derek, if you knew this was a possibility," he promised under his breath before joining the others in the kitchen.

\--

Except none of them would let him do anything. Isaac was put on "keep Stiles in his seat" duty and made sure that anything Stiles wanted was in front of him.

"Guys," whined Stiles, "I need to  _do_ something!"

"The only reason you're in this mess if because you  _did_  something, Stilinski," snickered Jackson before Lydia smacked him with a serving spoon.

"Stiles, you've got a  _wittle baby_  in you now, we're just trying to protect you!" Lydia said brightly, completely dignified even though she'd added in baby talk right in the middle of a sentence. She then proceeded to ignore Stiles' complaints about not even being a week pregnant and went to wash the serving spoon she'd used to hit Jackson.

"Stiles," said Scott, walking into the kitchen and pausing to snort at the image in front of him. Isaac was pressing a hand on Stiles' shoulder while Stiles tried to talk him out of guarding him.

"What, Scott?" asked Stiles irritability.

"Deaton says he doesn't know anything about this, and that he'll look through his stuff." Stiles nodded to show he'd heard and then made a face when Scott added, "Oh, and he says 'congratulations'."

"Ugh, fine then--"

"Stiles!" shouted Erica, turning to face him with a stricken expression. She looked ridiculous with a salad bowl clutched to her chest. "Stiles!" she repeated, this time a bit softer (but still quite loud). "How're you gonna tell your dad?"

Stiles stared blankly at Erica before groaning and collapsing onto the table, laying his face into his arms.

"Nooooo, I'm doomed!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tumblr](http://alphadragons.tumblr.com) shhhh just come


	2. In Which There is Heartbreak, Emotional Talks, and A Deputy is Fired

It was another half an hour before Derek woke up again. In the meantime, the pack had eaten dinner and were all gathered around the living room.

The girls were busy whispering amongst each other, Isaac fiddled with his phone with Boyd standing over his shoulder pointing out various things, Danny and Jackson were each immersed in the various lacrosse magazines that Stiles had (ignoring the problem at hand), and Scott was sitting next to Stiles on the couch both watching his phone, waiting for it to ring with a call from Deaton.

A groan alerted the pack to Derek’s revival and Isaac was first to his side, helping him sit up and silently offering a glass of water to his Alpha.

“What…” Derek croaked out, coughing once before draining the cup of water. Shaking his head and looking slightly better for the drink, he started again, “What happened?”

Stiles bit his lip and turned his head to stare at the wall. Erica saved Stiles from answering by telling Derek, for the second time that day, about Stiles’ pregnancy.

“What.” Derek grounded out, expression blank as he stared at Stiles’ midsection.

“Yeah, so apparently you can knock males up?” Scott said with a nervous giggle, gaze darting between Derek’s steadily darkening expression and Stiles impassive stare at the wall.

“No.” Derek said, climbing to his feet and walking over to the kitchen. The firmness and absoluteness of the world startled the pack and they all exchanged looks as the tension in the air heightened. Derek reappeared with another glass of water that he downed in a gulp and then pointed at Erica.

Erica frowned at him, “Derek, I’m positive—“

Derek glowered at Erica and interrupted her with a firm, “Impossible. Everything you learned in biology isn’t just suddenly bullshit because supernatural creatures exist.”

Scott opened his mouth to defend Erica who was looking taken aback but his phone rang and he reached for that instead. It was Deaton. Stiles turned infinitesimally towards the phone, eyes still glued on the wall but seeming to take notice in the conversation between Scott and the veterinarian.

“So—“ Scott started, breaking off as a tinny voice interrupted him. Every single werewolf in the room strained to hear what was being said.

“ _—unprecedented…never…fascinating…Talia once….I…dismissed…”_

“So…it’s…it’s real?” The answer to that question was heard clearly.

“ _Yes._ ”

“Ok…uh, can you come over soon? To help and uh, explain—“

“ _Certainly…twenty minutes…_ ”

“Ok then, bye, thanks,” Scott brought his phone down from his ear and stared at it in disbelief. It was one thing to have a werewolf scent the pregnancy…it was another to have it confirmed by Deaton.

A pained growl broke everyone’s stupor and all attention went to Derek who looked furious almost. Stiles gaze raked over Derek’s rigid posture and his own position tensed.

“I—Stiles, I—I need to go home and find my mother’s journals. There’ll probably—“ he interrupted himself abruptly and shouted “Fuck!” and slammed his glass onto the table hard enough that it shattered, the remaining droplets of water leaking onto the table. Stiles flinched.

“Derek—“ Stiles started, voice barely a whisper but stopped when Derek turned towards Stiles, eyes blank.

“I can probably find something to deal with this. I need a few days maybe to go through her journals. There has to be something that can get rid of this. I’m sorry this happened.”

Stiles sucked in a breath of air, looking as if someone—Derek—had slapped him. The pack shrunk back from the tense, hurt atmosphere.

Derek’s jaw clenched and he scowled darkly, nodding at Scott, “Ask Deaton when he comes here if he knows of any ways to get rid of _it_. I’m going to—“

Stiles made a high pitched sound and then stood up shakily, waving off Allison on his other side who had made a move to steady him. Trembling, he jerked his head at Derek. “Yeah. You—you need to leave, now. Everyone. I’m sorry that this ruined movie night but I need to—I need to call my dad and get this— _it—_ sorted out. So please leave.”

The girls all made noises of protest and Jackson even looked as if he was about to protest but Derek looked at Stiles with a dead look and commanded them to all leave. Allison looked worriedly after Scott who was the only one still sitting and not gathering his stuff and gave him a hug, whispering “Take care of him,” to Scott who nodded and continued to keep his gaze on Stiles, who was trembling still. Lydia laid a hand on Stiles’ shoulder and then left while Erica hugged a non-responsive Stiles, muttering something about Catwoman being there to kick ass which managed to elicit a half-hearted smile from Stiles.

After the pack had left leaving Stiles and Scott alone, after Scott nodded at Stiles to let him know that their cars were beyond listening distance even for a werewolf, only then did Stiles allow himself to cave and collapse onto the couch next to Scott. Scott wrapped his arms around his best friend and let Stiles cry silent, wracking sobs into his shoulder. He sent off a text to the Sheriff to come over immediately and then sat offering silent comfort to Stiles.

\--

Once they had gotten to their cars, Lydia refused to sit in Jackson’s car, instead, shoving Isaac and Boyd into the Porsche and demanding that she, Allison, and Erica go in Derek’s Camaro. Baffled and still a bit shaken by the scene in Stiles’ apartment, Jackson acquiesced and drove off with Isaac and Boyd.

Once they had pulled out the driveway and onto the road, Erica couldn’t hold it back and snapped at Derek.

“How could you, Derek? How _could you?_ ” Erica sounded more furious and more shaken than the time she came back from a year’s length of being gone. She and Stiles had built up their friendship, Catwoman to his Batman and they were basically sister and brother. The Sheriff had often come home to Erica beating Stiles at Call of Duty or some other game (and the one time with pillows), it had gotten to the point where the Sheriff would fondly say he had three children now, including Erica with Stiles and Scott (the first time Erica had heard, she’d burst out crying).

Derek growled back at Erica and interrupted her rage, “ _Because he deserves better_.”

Erica glared right back at Derek, “Who are you to decide for him? You just made him feel like _shit_ , you know? You basically told him that you _didn’t want_ him in your life, and that essentially, you wanted nothing to do with _it_ as you so charmingly put it.”

Derek could only shrug his shoulders and continue to scowl at the road before saying wearily, “I can barely keep a pack together, how the fuck do you expect me to have a kid?”  
“Your pack is doing pretty well,” Allison said tentatively.

“Oh yeah?” Derek lashed out at her, “You’re a _hunter_ dating my head-beta, Isaac is a codependent _child_ , Erica uses her sexuality to get things—I wouldn’t be surprised if she were to become a prostitute,” Erica flinched at his words, “Jackson is a self-entitled _ass_ who doesn’t give a shit about anyone but himself, Boyd is an anti-social freak who doesn’t have any friends but his girlfriend, Lydia is—“

Lydia, who had been surprisingly silent up til now, sharply interrupted his harsh words. “No.” Derek looked up at the rearview mirror in surprise, finding Lydia’s steely-eyed gaze meeting his eyes.

“No, you don’t get to do this, you’ve already murdered your family—“ Derek choked at her words, nearly slamming on the brakes. “Yeah, yeah that’s what you think, right? You _murdered_ your family because of a stupid tryst with Kate Argent—a cougar bitch that lured in a hormonal teenager,” hissed Lydia viciously. “Whatever you want to think about that, I don’t care. It’s in the past though, it’s _happened_. You need to pull your shit together before you lose your new family. You’ve got a pack no matter what you may think about them, this is your family, Derek. Most people don’t get second chances, you _did_ , and now you’re going to throw it all away? I’ve been the object of Stiles’ adoration for _years_ , do you remember? I know what Stiles is like when he cares about someone—even after he stopped putting me on a love pedestal, he’s still become a friend, the _best damned friend_ a girl could hope for. Do you know, the first semester when we were at college, he brought me a coffee every morning because he knew that my parents had forgotten me and hadn’t called me _once_? I found out that the coffees were way out of his price range and that he was already taking on a job at the library so he could afford them—he’s already on scholarship, Derek! _That’s_ the person that’s in love with you, and you just fucking slapped him in the face with your declaration that you didn’t give a shit.” Lydia breathed deeply in an effort to calm herself again—somewhere during her story about Stiles bringing her coffee tears had fallen, leaving dark smudges on her makeup.

Allison reached a hand over to hug Lydia close, and Erica held Lydia’s other hand.

“Derek,” Allison began, soft voice filling the air, “When you were gone this past week, Stiles was at a loss. I mean, we’ve seen you guys pining all throughout high school and college, but when he came back this summer, he was so _happy_. We were so glad that you guys had finally gotten together—he’d been having such trouble sleeping because of all the nightmares that he’d get from the various attacks we’ve been through. I’ve had to talk him through at least three panic attacks a month, you know? He calls his dad every day so that he’ll know he’s safe. But this week,” Allison smiled at Lydia who had squeezed her hand in acknowledgment of their experiences this week. “This week, he’s been moping about because he finally got some of that happiness and love he’s always wanted. Stiles needs someone to take care of, he’s got this desire to take care of everyone. You think that pack movie nights and dinner started this week? No, they’ve been going on throughout college. He’s got such a big heart and Lydia and I, we teased him about missing you all this week because it was really adorable. Erica was there for one of the conversations,” Erica interrupted to affirm that Stiles was being stupidly mope-y, “and then you came home, the pack could tell that Stiles was so much happier with you here.”

Derek’s jaw had a steady tick now, eyes fixed firmly on the road. Lydia sighed and reached to open the door.

“Erica, Allison, come on,” she said, stepping out of the car, “If Derek’s going to be a dumb little shit about this, I don’t want to have to see it.” Erica glared one last time at Derek and climbed out after Lydia—they’d somehow arrived at Lydia’s house.

Allison gave one last pitying look at Derek and followed the girls in.

Derek flexed his hands on the steering wheel once before stepping on the gas and speeding off even though he didn’t have a destination set—not his loft, no, he didn’t want to be there, Stiles’ scent was all over his loft. A sort of numb chill had settled over his heart.

\--

“Hey, Mike,” Sheriff Stilinski called out to his deputy, “I’ve gotta go and see what’s wrong with Stiles, watch over the rest of the rookies, yeah?”

Mike waved a hand to acknowledge the Sheriff before turning back to yell at a rookie for sticking his gun in his back pocket—“YOU WANT YOUR ASS SHOT OFF?”

The Sheriff chuckled and went about removing his gear.

“Sheriff,” an oily voice said near him, the Sheriff had to mentally tell himself not to punch the deputy—Deputy Jake was a shifty, nasty sort but as he didn’t have anything to fire him for, he was stuck. “Your son still with that murderer?”

Sheriff Stilinski turned around and said stiffly, “The charges were dropped, Jake, there is _nothing_ on his record now.”

An eyebrow rose at that, “Yeah, we know, Sheriff, anything for the son’s slutty perversions—“ he choked the last bit as he found himself slammed up against the wall. The shooting range went silent—no one went to interfere, the Sheriff was well loved and Jake was disliked by almost everyone.

“Say one word, Jake,” the Sheriff breathed, “one word and I’ll find some way to stick you in jail for the rest of your miserable existence.”

Jake shot him a greasy grin, “Oh, we taking offense because I insulted your son? Yeah, that’s what he gets for hanging around shit heads like Derek Hale—never liked the Hale family, bunch of weirdoes. Aren’t you afraid that your son’s preference for the, ah, same team came from that?”

The shooting range burst into applause as Sheriff Stilinski punched Jack in the gut before kicking him in the balls as he went down.

“No. Derek Hale is an upstanding citizen of Beacon Hills, unlike _you_ , and you, Ex-Deputy Jake, are officially fired from the Beacon Hills Police Department on account of being a _homophobic, bigoted, fuckwart, asshole_.”

Brushing his hands off and nodding with a wry grin at his underlings who were still clapping and cheering him on, he walked out and set off towards his cruiser to see what the hell was wrong with his son—something so important that Scott had sent him a text saying “ _SOS Stiles come now_.”


	3. In Which the Sheriff Becomes Immune to Surprises, Deaton is Not a Fountain of Knowledge, and Stiles' Bed is Invaded

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to sara60691 for prodding and harassing me :D Feel free to do it _every week_ :P

The last thing the Sheriff of Beacon Hills expected when he entered his son's apartment was to hear the words " _I'm pregnant_."

But maybe he should accept by now that the last thing he expects usually is what will happen ( _werewolves_  exist).  
\--

"Stiles," Scott murmured anxiously, "Your dad is heading towards the door, you gotta perk up a little, I sent him an SOS but I didn't send him a call for 911. You look like death, man."

Stiles looked up numbly at Scott from his curled up position on the couch under Scott's arm and sat up a little at his words. The straightened posture did nothing to improve the general heartbroken vibe that Stiles gave off at the moment, but it would have to do, Scott decided as he got up to open the door for the Sheriff.

“Scott,” said Sheriff Stilinski once he was facing Scott in the doorway, “What’s wrong with Stiles?” Scott jerked his head at Stiles, who had slumped back down, and at the sight of his dad, burst into tears again.

Alarmed, the Sheriff hustled over to his son and wrapped an arm around him, crooning nonsense words of comfort as he rubbed his free hand in circles on Stiles’ back.

“I—“ Stiles tried to speak but was crying too hard to manage to say anything.

“Shh, Stiles, calm down, tell me what’s wrong, you’ll be okay, we’ll figure this out,” the Sheriff said in a low, calm voice as if trying to soothe a frightened animal.

“I’m pregnant,” Stiles choked out between sobs, “I’m pregnant and Derek doesn’t want it and I already—I feel connected and I don’t even know how, and I’m a _male_ , I shouldn’t even be pregnant much less feel motherly love and Derek said he would find a way to _get rid of it_!” the last part was screeched in disbelief and horror.

The Sheriff’s arms stopped mid rub and there was a silence after Stiles’ panicked ramble.

“ _Pregnant_ , Stiles? Really?”

Stiles cringed at his dad’s voice and turned around, the last few tears still rolling down his cheeks.

“Uh…yeah, I was about to tell you about that, dad, but um.”

“We just found out, Sheriff,” Scott said quickly and Stiles shot him a grateful look.

“Well. I guess if werewolves exist…male pregnancy isn’t quite as shocking.” The Sheriff looked vaguely uncomfortable with saying ‘male pregnancy’ but somehow managed to sound as if he were confirming the weather report.

At that moment, another knock on the door startled the group and Scott cocked his head to listen before shrugging and going to open the door.  
“It’s Deaton.”

They waited as Dr. Deaton walked into the room and settled down onto the couch with several books in hand.

“Stiles.” Dr. Deaton said before sighing, “Only you would defy the laws of nature.”

“You mean it’s not a thing?” Stiles asked, biting his lips in worry.

“Well. Apparently, if the mate of an Alpha werewolf has a spark, and they desperately want something to come true, it’ll come true.”

Stiles exchanged looks of confusion with Scott.

“What do you exactly mean, Dr. Deaton?” Stiles asked, watching as the veterinarian pull the first book off his pile and hand it to Stiles. “The Olde Booke of the Sparke Human. What?”

“You remember when I told you that you had a spark, and that’s why you could use mountain ash?”

“Not really, I remember you going on about sparks and then telling me to hope that the mountain ash would work,” Stiles muttered, shrugging when the vet sighed in exasperation.

“Well some humans have the tiniest spark of power in them. You’re not magical, per se, but according to that book, it’s enough. You wanted something to tie you and Derek together, some undeniable proof that you’re his, and he’s yours. And so you created a baby.”  
Stiles gaped at the vet. Scott made a sort of dying noise when Deaton said the ‘you’re his’ stuff about his best friend and his Alpha. The Sheriff merely stared at Deaton as if nothing could surprise him by now.

“I made a baby.”

“Yes, that’s—“

“I _made a baby_.”  
“Well, technically—“

“I _made a baby because my subconscious was thirsty for a steady boyfriend_.” Stiles was terrified at the thought of his subconscious wanting to keep Derek close, so much so that it _made a baby_.

“Stiles!” Dr. Deaton gripped Stiles’ trembling shoulder, “You have to keep calm, your body can’t be under too much stress while you’re carrying this baby. It isn’t good for the baby.” At those words, Stiles took a deep breath and stilled himself.

“Please,” Stiles whispered, “How do I keep my baby safe?”

The Sheriff interjected himself into the conversation here, looking alarmed at the way Stiles seemed almost desperate to keep the baby. “Alan, how on earth is Stiles suddenly okay with the baby, why’s he so attached to it _already_?”

Dr. Deaton frowned in concentration at Stiles and flipped through another book. Finally, he looked up at the Sheriff, “I believe it’s because of his mate. Wolves tend to be possessive animals and werewolves thrive with large families, packs. Stiles’ own spark made this baby possible, he’s already completely attached to this baby, it’s accelerated his hormones already—his mood swings and over reactions prove that.”

Stiles snarled at Deaton, what over reactions was _he_ talking about?

All three of the other people in the room looked at Stiles in shock.

“I…” Stiles stared at his hands, feeling like he was out of control, “I don’t know what’s happening.”

Deaton looked at Stiles and then asked somberly, “When do you think the baby was conceived?”

Stiles chewed his lips as he thought about it, “Well…we haven’t really had um, time, since last week, before Derek’s trip,” he blushed and punched Scott when he made a retching sound.

“I see.”

Stiles looked at Dr. Deaton anxiously, “What do you see? Is something wrong?”

“No, Stiles,” the vet said calmly, “Nothing is wrong, but now we have a time frame that we can go by. You’re obviously not going by human pregnancy standards.”  
“I’m not?” Stiles asked, confused, “But I thought it was my _human_ spark and all that made it possible?”  
“Yes, but you’re carrying a werewolf pup, so you’re going by wolf pregnancy standards.”  
Scott gasped and stared at Stiles. “Oh my _god_!”

Stiles looked nervously between Scott and Dr. Deaton, confused and wary.

“It means, Stiles, that your pregnancy will last for approximately sixty-three to sixty-five days, and you won’t show until about thirty days in—and your pack could smell the pregnancy at a week or so.”

Stiles looked wondrously at his flat abdomen and patted at it, “Wow. Hey there little buddy, you’re gonna come out in just about two months!” Scott smiled goofily at his best friend and poked at Stiles’ stomach but snatched his finger back when Stiles growled at him.

“Holy shit! Stiles! You just _growled_ at me!” Scott yelped, clutching his hand to his chest and scooting backwards on the couch.

Dr. Deaton chuckled at Scott’s antics and nodded, “Yes, that’ll be the protectiveness showing. He’s going to be very protective of his baby and it seems that he has some wolf instincts that come along with the pregnancy.”

Stiles grinned sheepishly at Scott before grabbing his hand and placing it on his midsection. “You can’t feel anything, dude, but it’s still cool, right?” Apparently, Stiles had adapted quickly to the idea of male pregnancy—it could, Stiles reasoned, be the whole spark and wanting a connection thing that Deaton had said, but Stiles preferred the idea that he was an awesome adapter.

Scott grinned and poked gently at Stiles’ stomach. “How big is he gonna get, doc?”

Dr. Deaton grimaced at Scott’s casual nickname but ignored it otherwise and shrugged, “I’m not sure. I’ve never seen a case like this before. I’m going on theories and hypotheses right now. I’m guessing we’ll learn as we go. I’ll drop by every week to check up on you, Stiles, and if you feel anything strange be sure to call me.” With that, he stood up and shook hands with the Sheriff, nodded a farewell to the two boys and left.

“So,” Sheriff Stilinski stared at his son’s flat stomach, “you got any ideas for names?” The Stilinski men were great adapters.

\--

Somewhere in the woods, a startled howl was cut off and a sinister presence took its place inside its chosen vessel. Revenge, it thought, was going to be fun.

\--

Stiles had fallen asleep at eleven.

It was the earliest he’d gone to sleep in years, and yet he’d felt exhausted by ten. While they hadn’t known the gender (Stiles had berated Scott for not being able to find out even using his wolfy powers), he and his dad and Scott had fun going through various names. After a while, it had seemed almost natural, talking about his pregnancy.

The Sheriff hadn’t brought up the elephant in the room of Derek’s whereabouts. He had sensed that it wasn’t a good time and Stiles was grateful for his dad’s patience. He was pretty sure that when Deaton had said “stress,” more crying fests and worrying about Derek’s feelings towards him was included.

Some time around ten-thirty, his dad had to go back home (he had a shift the next day) but Scott vehemently refused to leave (to the secret relief of Stiles) and curled up in bed next to Stiles.

It seemed Stiles was pretty worn out by all the day’s activities and fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

“I want this baby, Scott,” Stiles whispered to his best friend, his rock of stability in this whole fiasco. Scott made a soft noise of comfort and wrapped an arm around Stiles. No one was going to hurt the baby or Stiles on his watch.

And apparently, Stiles found out, on _any_ of the pack’s watch.

Stiles woke up feeling heated and tried to wiggle out from under Scott’s arm (stupid werewolves and their warmth), but he found that he was stuck under _several_ arms. And a leg.

“MRPH!” Stiles grunted in surprise—the whole pack (except Derek, but Stiles refused to think about Derek) was gathered in a huge puppy pile on his bed.

“Shuddup, S’iles, sleeeeep,” whined Erica from her position curled up against Stiles’ back. She had an arm draped over Stiles and her hand was lax against his stomach. In fact, every single pack member had somehow managed to have a body part either touching Stiles or Stiles’ stomach.

“What is this?!” Stiles yelped in shock, “Is this a pack thing? Oh my god, is this because of the _baby?_ Why are _you_ here, Lydia? You’re like, immuno-pack-human! And _Allison!_ Why are you guys _here_ , on my bed! With me?!”

An arm flapped against Stiles’ head in an effort to muffle Stiles’ loud questions. Somewhere from his legs (so that was why he couldn’t move his legs) someone grunted a “ _shut up_.”

“Stiles. Shut up. And let us sleep,” commanded a sleepy and grouchy Lydia.

Stiles gazed around at his _pack_ and felt a sort of warm, happy feeling sweep over him. This, he thought, this he could get used to. Well, he amended when someone’s feet shifted near his head, maybe he should get a bigger bed before he got used to this.

And he drifted off back to sleep—with only the slightest twinge of hurt that Derek hadn’t appeared.


	4. In Which Stiles is a Preggers Mess, the Sheriff Wins Nose Goes, and Derek is Not in a Good Place

The worst thing about pregnancies, Stiles found, was not the hormonal outbursts, nor was it the craving for strange food (after all, Stiles was used to eating strange things)—no, it was the swollen ankles and aching back.

Of course, the pack found the cravings and hormonal moodswings to be more terrifying. It was the third week of the pregnancy and it became clear that Stiles’ pregnancy was moving faster than human pregnancies—something they’d all expected but was infinitely more crazy when it was actually happening.

It had been more than two weeks since anyone had heard from Derek and Stiles’ original bit of hope that Derek would return had nearly disappeared. The only thing that helped was the pack’s seemingly unanimous decision to pile on top of Stiles and sleep. While sometimes individual pack members had other things to do or couldn’t make it, Stiles had only slept alone twice during the time—and the pack had sworn to not allow it to happen again.

Both times Stiles had woken up in cold sweat, whimpering as his body yearned for its mate, seeking the warmth of another pack member’s protective cuddle. He tried to brush it off but during the day the pack could see his lack of energy and lethargic motions.

Stiles’ baby bump had appeared and it had become a pack thing to brush a hand along Stiles’ abdomen when passing by. Stiles had taken to wearing looser shirts (not that it was a problem considering he tended to wear loose shirts anyways) to hide the baby bump and could often be found petting the bump with a lost looking smile on his face. The only people who dared to go near him during those times—when it was oh-so-obvious that their pack mom was thinking of  _Derek_  (a name that was no longer spoken around Stiles since he had thrown a mug at the wall the last time someone had said it) were Scott and the Sheriff, although recently Lydia had started to brush a hand through Stiles’ hair in a gesture of support.

\--

"Isaac!" Stiles clapped the poor guy on the shoulder, grinning a bit crazedly, "How you doin' my man?"

"Um," Isaac's eyes darted around looking for an escape route--last time Stiles had looked like this, he'd demanded that Scott go out and adjust the satellite dish because the service wasn't good enough (it had taken  _three hours_  before he was satisfied). "Good?"

" _Well_ , that's just perfect!" Stiles continued on blithely, ignoring the terrified expression on Isaac's face, "How about we go grocery shopping together?" With that, he was off, dragging Isaac by the hand and pulling him out the door without waiting for Isaac's answer. Isaac's last pained and betrayed expression was aimed at Erica who had been standing on the opposite side of the room not moving a muscle for fear of attracting Stiles' attention.

Stiles had just finished shoving Isaac into the passenger seat when the Sheriff's patrol car pulled up to the curb. Frowning because he was sure that his dad was supposed to be at work still, he watched as the Sheriff climb out of the car with a grim expression.

"Dad?" he called out, "What's wrong?"

Sheriff Stilinski turned a bit until he caught sight of his son and then shook his head, "Nothing son, uh, you keep doing what you were going to do, I have to talk to Scott."

Stiles frowned at his dad before shaking his head, he gave a nod and slid into the car. For a second there was silence in the car as he and Isaac watched the Sheriff walk into the house.

"Something wrong?" Isaac asked tentatively, reaching a hand out to Stiles. Stiles shook his head and waved Isaac off before starting the car to go to the supermarket.

\--

"Sheriff, what do we...what do we tell Stiles?" Scott sounded terrified, if only because he didn't want Stiles to collapse even further upon hearing this news.

"I--I don't know. As of right now we still aren't a hundred percent sure that it's Derek behind these murders, but it's...it's pretty damning, this evidence." He nodded at the scrap of cloth on the table in a plastic bag. He'd brought it in because the death, like the previous death, had seemed rather brutal. The first death, he had written off as maybe a wildcat. Funny how the original excuse by his son had actually been his first thought upon seeing the claw marks. Stupid, he hadn't even consulted the other reference photos of mountain lion attacks much because he'd thought that their trouble with werewolf attacks were gone ever since the Hale Pack had established themselves to be powerful when they'd taken apart the Alpha Pack. This second attack though, he'd thought it a bit too much. The last mountain lion call-in by the rangers had been several months earlier.

He had brought in a scrap of the cloth left on the dead body with the hopes of Scott being able to identify what the scent was, and he had not liked the immediate shock on the boy’s face. He’d had to explain what the piece of cloth was from and then Scott had confirmed, although his eyes were wide and he’d been pale as a ghost, that it was not a mountain lion—instead, it was the scent of death, some sort of flowery scent, and _Derek._

Scott glared at the bag before sighing. "This--this will kill him, Sheriff. You know that."

Sheriff Stilinski shook his head wearily, "We can't not tell him our suspicions, he might--if Derek's behind this, I don't believe that he has a clear head."

Scott raised his head, looking a bit surprised at that statement before nodding, "Yeah, that makes sense. Derek wouldn't ever do something like this, it...oh god something's wrong then."

The two exchanged wary glances, if this were something supernaturally bad, Stiles would definitely want to help--he'd be necessary. However, with Stiles pregnant, there's no way the two men would allow Stiles in the way of danger.

“We still, we have to tell him. We can set up precautions but if he doesn’t know it might be even more dangerous,” the Sheriff looked as if he had aged years in just a few minutes. He shook his head to get rid of the grim mood and cracked a grin. “Whoever tells him is gonna have a hell of a time.”

“So…nose goes?” Scott’s finger shot towards his nose even as he was speaking but he watched in incredulous horror as the Sheriff’s finger tapped his nose—as if he were expecting it. With a smirk the Sheriff nodded at Scott and got up, gathering his stuff together to leave.

“You really expected to win against me, son? I’m Stiles’ father, in case you forgot,” the Sheriff chuckled as Scott continued to look pitifully at him. No mercy, not when it came to telling his son that his baby’s father was back on the suspect list and this time for _multiple_ murders.

\--

“Oh _my god_.” It was reverent tone of somebody who had just seen a miracle occur—and was also Stiles’ overexcited self seeing a brand new flavor of Poptarts,

Isaac restrained himself from whining in defeat and just plopping down on the linoleum tiled supermarket floor and crying. They’d been “grocery shopping” for over two hours now—in the _same store._ Stiles had taken a quarter of an hour choosing between grated and shredded cheese because “ _Isaac it has to be_ perfect _otherwise the pizza will taste horrible and then where will you be, Isaac?_ Starving _, that’s where_.”

An old lady was staring suspiciously at Stiles from across the aisle and Isaac braced himself for Stiles’ inevitable outburst when he noticed. Stiles had always hated being stared at and with his pregnancy the dislike had quickly grown into a deep hatred and tipping point between Stiles--the normal human being, and Stiles--the pissed of preggers.

“Hey, hey lady,” Stiles called out politely. Isaac closed his eyes and prayed to—whoever the fuck was listening, honestly, even the trickster god Loki sounded awesome right now—for a quick and non-escalating exchange of words. But of course, there was a reason why Isaac wasn’t a believer of any faith (besides the whole _mythological beast_ thing) and the little old lady glowered at Stiles. It didn’t seem promising.

“Young man, are you talking to _me_?”

“Haha, You talkin' to me? You talkin' to _me_? _You talkin' to me_? Then who the hell else are you talking... you talking to me? Well I'm the only one here. Who the fuck do you think you're talking to? Oh yeah? Okay!” Stiles chortled, quoting some movie* that Isaac’s poor brain didn’t have the capacity to remember but was surely more funny than what was about to go down. Shit, he knew he should have run for the hills when Stiles had started talking to him that morning.

“Young man, what are you saying to me, that’s very rude—“

Stiles cut into the woman’s no doubt very indignant speech with a snort of laughter. “Rude? You’re talking to me about _rude_? How about the way you were just staring at me? Think that’s rude? Wow, lady, um, note to self, old ladies think that quotes from classic movies are rude but staring is not.”

Isaac focused all his attention on his shoelaces. He noticed that one of them was slightly frayed and that the other had a bit of green on it. Something must have stained it, maybe he should go home and scrub it with bleach. Yeah, that seemed like a good idea, maybe just dunk his head in the bleach while he was at it.

“Young—“

“ _Old_ lady, I know what you’re up to! Just because I’m shot up with hormones doesn’t mean I’m not still _sharp as a fucking ninja_. Okay?  You smell like Vicks Vapo-Rub and cats, and I want to move farther away from you before I throw up on your padded nylon ankle boot**, you fat ass! Oh _wait_ I bet you were thinking about calling _me_ fat—well let me tell you, babushka, I am about to poop out a goddamn _wolf pup_ in less than two months so _fuck you_ I am allowed to be excited about the new flavor of sugary shit because _I fucking deserve it_! I haven’t had caffeine in more than two weeks, I’m in caffeine withdrawal, my fucking wolf hubby is MIA so shut the fuck up, old lady in a wrinkly cardigan!”

There was silence in the grocery store as Stiles heaved for breaths before he muttered “fuck it” and took his arm and swept the entire Poptarts collection off the shelves and high-tailed it to the register. The cashier silently swiped everything and mumbled the total cost meekly.

Isaac merely followed, eyes still fixed on his shoelaces. He wondered vaguely if he should dye his shoelaces red so that one day (soon, very soon, he believed) when Stiles murdered someone during an outburst he wouldn’t have to wash them.

\--

“—uck off!” snarled an incensed Derek Hale, eyes Alpha red and his body straining against the bonds. They were laced very liberally with wolfsbane but he ignored the searing pain and tried to break the grip of the bonds anyways.

“Ah, but Alpha Hale, I have no wish to ‘fuck off’—indeed, I think I shall stay longer. I do so love how well you’ve done with your murders. Your lovely mate’s father was confused but he eventually got there. We saw him go into his house with that piece of evidence didn’t we? Scott McCall, useful little beta you’ve got there, probably helped him out with the scent. By now they’re confused and wondering where their precious Alpha Hale has gone.” The voice sounded like bells tolling and yet managed to ooze and drip with oily amusement.

Derek growled furiously at the hidden figure in the dark, his hatred of the owner of the voice written clearly on his furred face.

“Ooh, but wait, Alpha Hale, there’s more!” chuckled the voice, “While you were unconscious after the removal of my will from your mind today, I went to visit your precious little mate. I saw him burst at a little old lady.”

Derek froze in his struggle to escape and his eyes widened involuntarily with the immediate fear that gripped him.

“He and the pup grow well, isn’t that something to be happy about? At least, they’ll be nice and healthy when I take them.” the bell-like voice merely hummed with delight at Derek’s answering roar.

“Ah-ah-ah, Alpha Hale, that’s not how we treat our hosts…oh dear, did I flip the saying?” there was a giggle and suddenly Derek’s body shook from an electric current running through his body. “I did say that you’d be punished for any transgressions, no?”

“Now, where was I? Ah, yes, your pup and mate are perfectly healthy, he seems sad though,” it sounded as if the voice was mock pouting. “Poor little human Stiles. His mate doesn’t want him, he’s been abandoned for two weeks now. He can’t sleep without his pack all around him—remember that one night when we stood outside his window and listened to him whimper and cry the whole night? Ooh, yes, that was _fun_.”

Derek barely acknowledged the shadow moving from the dark as his vision slowly slipped away, darkness reclaiming him. The last thing he heard was a whisper from the dark figure leaning over him.

“Hmm, Stiles Stiles Stiles…you’re so hurt that he doesn’t love you, pity you don’t get to see how much his heart breaks every day he’s away the way I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *quote from _Taxi Driver (1976)_ and is the only part of the movie I've ever seen (because I watched a French film that had a mockery of the line)
> 
> **this bit from a blog about motherhood [here](http://www.rantsfrommommyland.com/2010/09/things-i-wanted-to-say-while-pregnant.html)


	5. In Which Stiles is Hormonal, Derek Still Has Spirit, and Then Bad Things Begin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A late, late graduation present for [becausefeels](http://archiveofourown.org/users/becausefeels/pseuds/becausefeels) I wish you all the luck in your life :D

By the time Stiles and Isaac got home, Isaac was clutching at his door handle nearly whimpering to be let out so that he could run far far _far_ away from Stiles.

“Isaac goddamit stop looking at me like I’m going to eat you. You’re the one with the scary vicious fangs—which by the way do you brush them? You better brush your canines, Isaac, it’s very important to brush your pearly whites especially after you’ve eaten bunnies and there’s fur stuck! Floss! Floss your teeth _every day_ otherwise there’ll be bleeding gums and gingivitis and that’s bad, Isaac, Isaac are you listening? _Do you floss every day_?!” With each word, Stiles leant closer and closer to the poor curly haired wolf and the last question was emphasized with surprisingly strong (and painful) jabs to Isaac’s chest.

Isaac whined a bit feeling the desperate urge to flop over on his belly, bare his neck, and then just wiggle away on his back after spending only twenty minutes in the car with Stiles. Well, Isaac thought wryly, guess Deaton was right about Stiles being Derek’s equal in the pack. Only Derek had inspired such pitiful urges and if he was going to be honest with himself, Stiles inspired ten times more fear than Derek had ever dreamed of achieving.

“Isaac!” a muffled voice called him from outside the Jeep door and Isaac could have kissed Allison for rescuing him from the terror that was Stiles on a mission. He waved at her and when she simply curled her fingers in a beckon, he happily opened the door and all but fell out of the car.

“We aren’t done with this conversation, Isaac! We’ll come back to this!” Stiles shouted from his seat where he was fumbling at his seatbelt. Isaac nodded weakly and started discreetly nudging at Allison to walk away. She shot an amused but sympathetic look at Isaac and after waving at Stiles who had made it out of the car and was heading towards the house, finally started walking down the sidewalk.

“What was he harping on about this time?” she asked with morbid curiosity. The pack had known to anticipate cravings and hormonal swings but the sudden urges that gripped Stiles to _mother_ everyone were sporadic and a frankly terrifying new manifestation of pregnancy.

“Uh, my teeth.”

“Oh, poor you, he went on about my hair’s bounciness a couple days ago—but at least I wasn’t alone with him,” Allison patted Isaac’s shoulder before clearing her throat and stopped walking. She glanced back at the house to make sure that Stiles was in the house for sure and then turned solemn eyes to Isaac.

Isaac chuckled nervously, fidgeting under her gaze. “Allison?” he asked tentatively.

“Stiles is currently in the house and he’s about to be ambushed by Scott and the Sheriff,” Allison took a deep breath to calm her nerves before continuing, “You know that murder case?” Isaac nodded, looking lost as to the direction of her questioning. “Well, there’s evidence that it’s Derek.”

Isaac paled and almost unconsciously turned to barge into the house, somehow recognizing even through the shock that Stiles would be even more affected by this tidbit of information and the urge to protect Stiles was strong.

“Isaac!” Allison hissed, grabbing his arm, “You can’t go in there—Stiles _needs_ to know this. We’re positive that Derek’s not in his right mind, Scott said that he smelt Derek but also something strange at the crime scene. It’s safer if Stiles knows so that he’ll be on the lookout. Derek may not be himself—it’s possible that whatever’s got control of Derek will have no problem hurting Stiles.”

Isaac let out a large gust of air and shook his head, visage still paler than usual. He nodded at Allison and then promptly sat down on the curb and buried his head in his hands. Allison followed suit, albeit slower and more graceful. Running her hand through the curly locks of the young werewolf, she let Isaac lean his head on her shoulder.

“He’s. He’s gonna be okay, right?” Isaac mumbled against Allison’s shirt, hands clenching and unclenching erratically in his lap.

Allison sighed and didn’t reply—she didn’t know if she could promise the younger boy that.

“He’s—he’s the only family that I’ve got now,” Isaac continued on as if there hadn’t been a pause in the flow of words. “Erica and Boyd are close, you and Scott are close. Scott and Stiles are practically brothers—and I know that I could depend on all of you but…Derek’s _my_ almost-family.” After a second, he snorted at his own words, “Crappy almost-family member, but…he’s still family.”

With that, the two lapsed back into a somewhat comfortable silence as they waited for the people in the house to signal them back in. They were both pretty sure that there was an inevitable freak out session from Stiles to come, so the peace and quiet was appreciated for the moment.

\--

“Nope.”

“Stiles.”

“No.”

“Son, we’re not saying that he’s doing it by his own free will—Scott said that he caught the scent of something else—“

“Don’t care.”

“Stiles, stop being ridiculous.”

“Me? I’m not being ridiculous, _you guys_ are.”

“Oh my god, Stiles, it’s not like Derek’s the perfect little princess who helps the elderly cross the street and fluffy rainbows. You _know_ he’s got a shit temper and that he’s violent at times—he freaking threatens to tear throats out! With his teeth!”

“And I’m not saying that Derek’s a ‘perfect little princess’—I’m just saying that there’s no way that Derek would kill innocent people.”

“Under the influence, Stiles! He probably can’t help himself!”

“So what, it’s like the more bloody and gruesome version of a DUI? An MUI? Murder under the influence?”

The Sheriff threw his hands up and stopped pacing in order to flop down onto the couch opposite his (stubborn, stubborn, bull-headed) son.

“Stiles.” Scott looked as if he was very much done with this whole understanding and sympathetic, gentle way of breaking the news. “I don’t know what else to say to convince you. We’ve dug up some samples near the crime scene and Dr. Deaton’s looking at them right now—we’re _trying_ , okay? You just need to be more careful and if Derek—or a look-a-like Derek—comes near you _don’t_ just run up to him and start yelling okay? Call one of us.”

Stiles looked as if he was about to argue but before he could, the Sheriff interrupted.

“Son, we’re trying to protect you and the baby. We need your full cooperation with this. Just be happy that Scott pleaded your case and that you don’t have a twenty four-seven buddy system.”

Stiles’ eyes welled up with tears suddenly and the Sheriff looked partly terrified and partly baffled.

“Stiles?” Scott asked cautiously, slowly approaching Stiles as if he were a wounded animal in need of aid.

“I can’t believe—I just, _my baby_ , and suddenly there’s a murder! And everything is going to _shit_ , and I—I don’t want to be afraid of the father of my child! It’s all so horrible and I’m not even being any helpful and you guys are so _nice_ and _caring_ and I just want that from _Derek_ not you guys!” Any further words were drowned out by Stiles’ watery tears and the sobs that wracked his body. The other occupants of the room were stunned into stillness for a few seconds at the sudden turn of emotions before they sprang into action.

“Stiles, Stiles, it’s okay—“ Scott soothed, rubbing his best friend’s back.

“Stiles. Son, I promise, we’ll get Derek back, you and the baby will have a safe pregnancy—I’ll squash Derek’s nuts if need be to get him back at your side and being an absolute paragon of fatherly affection towards the baby and utter devotion to you, I _promise_.” Scott politely refrained from acknowledging the Sheriff’s voice cracking in the middle of the sentence.

Stiles simply sobbed harder and clutched at his father’s sleeves in a manner reminiscent of his childhood days when he would fall and skin his knee after which he would seek comfort in the embrace of his strong, police officer dad.

\--

Another week passed before the killer (not _Derek_ , no, they were different entities as far as the pack was concerned) struck again. This time, it was a middle-aged woman, Ashley Weeks, who had been on her way home from the groceries when her car was attacked. Her car was totaled, but the difference between this victim and the others was that she had survived. It was obvious that the killer had not meant to let her live—her injuries were incredibly severe, she’d have to go through intense physical therapy to walk again and one of her arms had been paralyzed due to the metal piece of the car that had gone clean through her right forearm. She had been assumed for dead until someone had noticed that she was breathing, just barely clinging on to life.

The Sheriff had just come out of a disheartening conversation with the victim that confirmed the pack’s own evidence that the killer was somehow connected to Derek. Although, he mused as he walked down the hall of the hospital with a few other police officers, something else had been mentioned that seemed to be a lead on the strange scent that Scott had gotten.

_“Some strange creature attacked—I was terrified y’know? But before that adrenaline rush from a gigantic thing with teeth and claws crashing into my car, I was freaked out because there was an old man standing with his arms behind his back like all proper ‘n shit—‘scuse me, Sheriff.” Sheriff Stilinski waved off the apology and bashful look from the woman, he’d heard much worse._

_“Anyways,” Ashley started back up, “he was just kinda staring at me, like a creepy guy. I was all ready to pull out my Mace just in case—but he sorta just…disappeared. I know it sounds crazy,” she looked like she barely believed it herself but pushed forward with her story, “but he just—he just poof! Disappeared. Right before he disappeared, he did a sort of throwing motion—like when you play fetch with dogs, right? I didn’t think much of it until the beast attacked. Now,” she paused, glancing warily up at the Sheriff to make sure he didn’t look like he was ready to place her in a mental institution._

_Strangely, he seemed intensely focused on her story. “Now,” she repeated, licking her lips nervously, “I think that it’s connected. Like maybe the beast was his pet?”_

_The Sheriff nodded and was silent for a few moments before shaking his head and getting out of his chair. “Thank you for talking to me, Ms. Weeks, I hope your recovery is speedy. Dr. Spokes is a very good physical therapist, I’m sure you’ll be walking soon.” Ashley shook hands with the Sheriff and then he left. She settled back into her bed and pondered the crazy wreck that her life had suddenly become and then thought about how the Sheriff had simply accepted her implausible story. Perhaps, she thought, perhaps there were things afoot—whatever it was, she’d be happy staying well out of it._

Yes, the Sheriff thought, some strange things were happening in his town, and he was sure that the old man had something to do with it—just what, he wasn’t quite sure. Hopefully Scott and Alan Deaton would have some leads from this vague description.

\--

 _“What did I tell you about going gentle?_ ” hissed an angry voice as a gnarled hand gripped Derek’s hair tightly and simply yanked him up so that his head was close to his captor’s face, with no regard to how the bottom half of Derek was awkwardly splayed across the ground.

“To _not_ ,” Derek rasped in a mocking voice. He barely had a second to luxuriate in his continued resistance (it seemed that Stiles had rubbed off on him) before his head snapped back from a powerful backhand from the furious being’s other hand.

“You think this is a _joke_ , wolf boy. Well it’s just gotten _worse_ , thanks to your sneaky ways,” his captor suddenly opened his fist and let go of Derek (who dropped like a sack of stones). There was a chilling sound of choking laughter as a gnarly hand grabbed a sheet of paper from the table nearby. It was a hand-drawn calendar and there were nine weeks marked out. A circle had been placed around the previous dates that Derek had been forced to murder, and two more circles were placed somewhere between the fifth and ninth week.

“You see, I had originally planned on having you kill a few more before we went and collected your pretty, pretty mate. The _empousa_ needs feeding before she can utilize your mate—but oh, I guess since you’ve nearly blown our cover…we’ll have to collect a bit early, especially since she only managed to get a tiny bit of blood from our dearest Ashley Weeks. It’s a good thing your precious mate is a male. The empousa will feed so well on him.”

Derek jerked his body in response to the words he was hearing but he barely had any strength left to heal his hurts much less inflict any pain on the lunatic in front of him. “ _Leave. Him. Alone_ ,” he still managed to grunt out. There was a pause before a leg shot out and kicked Derek in the side forcing the air out of him and successfully knocking the werewolf’s already over-abused body to shut down and Derek fell unconscious.

“Stupid werewolf,” the snarled words rang out into the silence of the empty room. There was a moment of calm as Derek’s captor shook out his legs—bronze with hooved feet—so that pant legs once again covered them up.

\--

It was a few days later, Stiles was now slightly more than five weeks pregnant and his baby bump was the size of a medium-sized watermelon—as Jackson happily pointed out—and Stiles was out shopping for groceries, this time with Erica. He was wearing the largest shirt he had and a XXL sweatshirt over that so that it looked like Stiles had either gained a large amount of pudge in his mid-section, or he had a ball hidden in his sweatshirt pocket. Purposely ignoring all the curious looks thrown at him, he strolled alongside the cart that Erica pushed and tried to ignore the sweltering heat of his added layers. The pack had tried to convince Stiles not to go out but Stiles had been adamant, it’d been a full week since he’d been outside and he was bored like no one who had had ADHD in their youth should _ever_ be bored. Also, sitting at home with nothing to do gave him plenty of time to freak out about how in about four weeks, he was supposed to pop some babies out. Stiles shuddered just thinking of it and—oh dammit, he shifted and now the pups were resting directly on his bladder.

“Erica,” he said, poking her in the side, “I gotta go pee. Adios, don’t be too sad as I go off and relieve that yellow liquid from my body!”

Erica looked mildly murderous. Stiles got the feeling that if it weren’t for the instinctive pack urge to protect him, they’d all have strangled him a few weeks back. Patting his belly-womb-male-uterus, he sauntered off in the direction of the bathrooms. Stiles refused to call it waddling, and the last time Jackson had teased him about the more waddle-iness of his steps, he’d taken the fly swatter he’d been using to fan himself and started smacking the stupid were-lizard with it.

He’d then of course, done some sort of maneuver that had twisted his already aching back and then in a fit of kindness, Jackson had given him a massage. Stiles was still not quite used to the caring thing that Jackson had going, but he knew when to shut up and enjoy so he did exactly that.

Just thinking about that massage made him smile and as he walked into the bathroom, he was busy contemplating ways to get Jackson to offer another one. Standing at the urinal, he vaguely noticed that there was a man next to him but dismissed it and just went about doing his business. As soon as he was finished, he washed his hands and started to cheerfully go back out and bug Erica about getting some Toblerone (he’d pass it off as a craving if he had to).

It was out of the corner of his eyes that he saw the man striding towards him and he started turning in suspicion. When he turned, he saw that it was ex-Deputy Jake, the officer that his dad had fired a few weeks back and had apparently been a raging homophobe.

“Um…what—mmph!” Stiles felt his eyes roll back up into his head as the cloying smell of some chloroform was stuffed in his face. His last panicked thought was a prayer sent up to any and all deities—to _keep his baby safe_.

\--

“Scott!” shouted Sheriff Stilinski as he walked into the room, holding a sheaf of papers.

“Sheriff!” yelped a very red and disheveled Scott who was followed by an equally red and disheveled Allison. The Sheriff completely ignored the embarrassed vibes that the couple was giving off and held up the papers in his hand.

“Scott, where is Stiles?”

“I think he went with Erica to the store?” Scott said, shoving futilely at his hair to make it neater but it wasn’t working.

“Get him home _right now_ ,” the Sheriff demanded, sounding exceedingly anxious. “The deputy I fired a few weeks ago, we’ve been notified from his previous station—he’s a wanted criminal, he’s a _serial killer_ who’s chosen traits in victims is homosexuality.”

Allison blanched at the Sheriff’s words. “You mean there’s a homophobic serial killer on the loose?!” she rushed to the side table and snatched up her phone, poised to dial Stiles’ number but before she could, her phone rang.

“Who—“ Scott started but cut himself off when Allison raised the phone and the display name was Erica.

“Hello?” Allison answered, sounding terrified.

A loud shriek of words sounded from the phone causing Allison to pull it away from her ear.

“Erica! Calm down, tell me what’s wrong!” Allison snapped into the phone, which seemed to work as a steady babble of words proceeded at a lower volume. A few seconds later, her complexion paled and she looked up at the two men staring at her.

“Stiles. He’s gone.”


	6. In Which Lydia Loses Control, Stiles Freaks Out, and Derek Arrives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT GOT CREEPIER GUYS I DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW I BLAME THE DARK FICS I'VE BEEN READING LATELY.  
> ALSO IT'S LIKE REALLY LATE WAT. SENIOR YEAR IS UPON ME AND JFC COLLEGE APPLICATIONS AND 5 AP CLASSES AND I'M REALLY NOT IN A GOOD PLACE BUT HERE  
> This and the next update were originally ONE chapter but it got to 4K words so I decided to split it up. Next part will be up by Friday!
> 
> OK SO **WARNING!**  
>  Mentions of creepy as fuck sexual behavior crops up (not nearly as much as it will in the next chapter) from Stiles' abductor. It's not quite as graphic as it _will_ get so probably won't be as freaky but if it's a **trigger** for you, I have marked it out with **THREE ASTERISKS at the beginning of the section to the END so if you see *** then STOP and then scroll till you hit *** again!** I WILL REPEAT THIS WAY OF WARNING next chapter when it gets freakier.
> 
> [MESSAGE ME ON TUMBLR](http://alphadragons.tumblr.com/ask) AND I WILL TELL YOU WHAT HAPPENED DURING THOSE SKIPPED SECTIONS IN GENERAL TERMS WITH NO TRIGGERS!

It was a testament to the amount of stress that a police officer undergoes in Beacon Hills that Sheriff Stilinski was calmly ordering the pack to gather around, assemble at Stiles' house only minutes after the shocked silence following Erica's panicked announcement.

"Scott, pull yourself together dammit and be prepared to tell the pack what happened," the Sheriff snapped as he strode towards the door, ready to open it for the first to come. Lydia was already on her way and Jackson had said that he would pick up Boyd and Isaac from the library. Erica was still on the line with Allison, reciting every minute detail she remembered from the very start of her shopping trip.

"He said that he had to relieve his body of 'that yellow liquid'! I glared at him oh god Allison, I was mean to him and now he's gone and what if he's--what if I can't ever apologize--and he's so--I can't--"

"Breathe! Erica, breathe you're hyperventilating, calm down and focus on driving. I know you have me on speaker but panicking while driving is still dangerous. You need to be in one piece to rip the guy who kidnapped 

Stiles into shreds, okay?" Allison calmly but firmly managed to talk Erica down and spent a few more minutes talking before Erica hung up when she could see the house. Under her breath she muttered to Scott, "I didn't know werewolves could hyperventilate?"

"It's probably more psychosomatic for Erica," a feminine voice asserted before Scott could try to stumble his way through an explanation. Lydia smiled tightly at Scott before she sat down on the couch next to Allison and picked up her hand--gripping tight enough that Allison winced. "What do we know about the bastard that kidnapped Stiles?" she asked Scott.

"Well for one, we don't really know who kidnapped him," Scott said, "We just know that he's gone--taken--and that the Sheriff's ex-deputy is a wanted, homophobic, serial killer."

Lydia breathed in deeply through her nose and nodded before letting the breath go. "I see."

Allison looked like she was about to say something but Erica flew in before she could.

"I--!" she barely started before a loud smack could be heard. The sound resounded, almost echoed in the utter silence that followed. Erica looked stunned and raised a hand slowly to touch her face, already the blood was rushing there and a bright red handprint was forming across her cheek.

"You. Fucking. Bitch." Lydia hissed, furious where she had been calmly quiet just moments before. "What were you thinking?!"

"I-I didn't--" Erica stuttered in the face of Lydia's fury.

“Exactly. You weren’t thinking. He’s basically in his mid second, almost third trimester of _pregnancy_ and you just left him alone?! Derek’s _gone_ , somewhere in the town probably possessed by a lunatic and you just decided that you’d go off and let Stiles--”

“Enough!” Scott stepped in between the two girls. “That’s enough,” he repeated softly, waiting until both girls made eye contact before continuing. “Stiles is somewhere out there and yes, he’s basically third trimester for someone carrying wolf pups, according to Deaton from his last check-up. WE need to organize search parties and figure out where he could possibly be. You guys need to pull yourselves together and _start helping_.”

Lydia nodded stiffly and turned to stalk out of the room. She didn’t see Erica scrub roughly at her face to get rid of tears, nor did she see the way Erica had basically shrunk back into her pre-bite slouch. The confident, newly happy Erica was hidden completely by the ordeal of the day.

“Erica,” Allison reached out a hand gently to touch her arm, “Help me go get Danny and see if he can get a read on Stiles’ cellphone, okay?”

Erica barely responded, listlessly following after Allison when she was gently led out the room.

Scott sighed and ran a hand across his face in an effort to clear his mind before he too followed the rest out the door to see if there was anything that could be done. Somehow, he doubted that Stiles’ cellphone would turn up anywhere useful.

\--

***

“Der-Scott!” shouted Stiles as he came around again. His head spun viciously feeling as if someone had stuck him on a spinning roller coaster and just hit the loop button. He groaned in pain and tried to slowly open his eyes and take in the surroundings. The last thing he remembered was...the bathroom? So why was he only wearing boxers then?

Opening his eyes he was taken aback by the scene that met his eyes. It was his bedroom--but also not his bedroom. The shape of it was his bedroom, the bed, the desk, the positioning of the closet...except everything personal was gone. It was like the shell of his bedroom, really. Confused and starting to feel scared, he tried to sit up and found that he couldn’t, his wrists and upper arms were restrained by (what the fuck) handles built into the mattress. They were soft but coarse, like the handles on most mattresses on the sides that were meant for dragging them places. He tugged and found that the were securely sewn in and a further evaluation of his body found that his ankles were similarly restrained.

It was like a freaky sex dream gone _horribly_ wrong.

“Dad?” he whispered, hoping against hope that this was just some badly designed joke by his pack mates in a bizarre effort to keep him in bed rest for the rest of the pregnancy.

“Ah, Stiles, you’re awake!” a familiar voice trilled (like a bird) lightly across the room from a doorway that must’ve been purposely positioned out of Stiles’ view.

“Deputy Jake?” Stiles asked incredulously.

“ _Ex_ -deputy Jake, Stiles. The ‘ex’ is very important.” He chuckled as if he ere correcting a small child on a simple addition problem. “After all, it _is_ the reason you’re here.”

“What?” Stiles stared at the _ex_ -deputy police officer.

“Well, indirectly the reason, really.” He chuckled ( _again_ , but this time--lighter and much more terrifying for the cheerfulness infused in it), “See, I originally worked in the NYPD. It was rather prestigious, you know?” He paused as if waiting for Stiles to agree but continued when Stiles remained silent. “I worked under a conservative head and he and I agreed in everything conservative except for gay rights. I believe I was very deeply in the closet at that point and so whenever he said anything derogatory, I naturally felt terrible--but didn’t know why.”

Stiles was now _thoroughly_ confused as to what was going on.

“And then, one day, I was in a club after work and saw my superior officer grinding up against a man. I--I’m not quite sure what I thought, but I guess I felt relief. Like my inner moral compass though that if my boss was gay, or at least bi, I was okay to like men as well. So I started going to gay clubs. I picked up some men and it was fine.” He paused then to check if Stiles was still listening. Once he was satisfied that Stiles was, he picked the story back up again. “Until the day we were in the same club and my superior officer took me home. He made sweet, sweet love to me. He murmured niceties about how lovely I looked, how tight I was...how I was just _made_ for him.”

Stiles felt vaguely disturbed by the dreamy expression on the man’s face.

“He started by rubbing a finger gently around my hole, god it felt so good. Then he just teased me, he kept making me suck his fingers so that they were nice and slick and then he’d just _barely_ insert a finger, it was such torture but such wonderful torture. It felt like ages before he finally went deeper and another era before two fingers touched my insides.”

“Stop.” Stiles said, not wanting to hear Jake reminisce a sexual memory, “I really don’t--”

Jake stuffed a nearby hand towel into Stiles’ mouth and waited for Stiles to stop trying to make a noise around it and adapt to the blockade by breathing shallowly from his nose.

***

\--

Derek howled in fury, anger, fear? sorrow hurt confused love family pack _kill_.

His captor simply laughed as they strode into Sheriff Stilinski’s house and settled down to wait.

\--

***

“Stiles, it’s a story that has great influence on your situation. You should hear this.” He patted Stiles’ head and then continued. “Those two fingers were _amazing_ , god, I nearly came from just that. And then he went faster all of a sudden--I was so relieved. He didn’t do what I wanted him to do though. He got off of me and got a vibrator. A vibrator! When all I wanted was his dick inside of me.” He laughed, shaking his head as if he had been so naive to think  such a thing at the time. “But the vibrator felt so good. He managed to focus it directly on my prostate. I bucked and writhed but he was so strong, he held me down. After I was completely dry, he jerked off on me and then left me there. I...I was so confused.” Jake lifted his hand and stroked a finger gently down Stiles’ calf.

Stiles stared at Jake, a terrifying thought pushing its way into his mind, unable to move his leg away.

“The next day he acted as if nothing had changed. But that night, he dragged me into his car and then drove us to his house again. He fucked my mouth this time. I’d never been great at deep-throating but he didn’t care. He just grabbed my hair and tilted my head back and just...thrust. It was so _exhilarating_ , that lack of control. He made sure I didn’t bite him by holding a hand to my throat. I thought it was to feel his cock thrust in but the first time I accidentally uncovered a tooth, he squeezed so hard. I gasped and choked but he continued. I had no choice _but_ to adapt, to learn.” Jake still had the crazy, dreamy expression but his hand hand drifted from Stiles’ calf to his thigh.

“It continued, this pattern of normalcy during the day and crazy, amazing sex at night. He’d do everything to me. Around the fourth day or so, he just snapped me into cuffs and just went for it. He used my body and I happily gave it to him. Until.” Jake’s face turned ugly, a terrible, mean expression morphed his once generically handsome face into a monstrous thing. “Until they found that I had been evading taxes and fired me. He stopped making love to me. He stopped associating with me. So I had to get his attention, you see?” Jake had turned his face towards Stiles, an earnest, begging to be understood look upon his face.

Stiles shook his head, so disgusted that he was. Jake rolled his eyes.

“You’ll see, Stiles, I’ll make you see. I decided that jealously was the way to go. I’d learned plenty from my lover, so I decided I would use it on others. I found someone at a club and brought him home. He’d told me he was gay early on that night. I locked him into the restraints that I had and I couldn’t understand why he struggled--but he did. So I did what my lover did the first night in the hopes that this new man would calm down. He didn’t.” Jake looked absolutely bewildered. “He didn’t! So I tried the second night’s activities. He cried, you know? When I was squeezing his throat, tears dripped. But he fell asleep after that so I snuggled down with him.” Jake smiled.

Stiles whimpered in fear and then shied away when the man shushed him and petted his upper thigh.

***

\--

“Any news?” Scott asked tiredly. They hadn’t slept all night, split into groups of two to search the woods while Lydia and Allison, still humans, tried other ways along with Danny at his house. Danny’s methods had proven fruitless as they tracked the cellphone to a dumpster a couple hundred feet away from the store. It had been dusted for fingerprints by the Sheriff but only Stiles’ were found.

“No, you?” Allison asked even though she knew the answer. She sighed when Scott shook his head and buried her face in his shoulder seeking comfort.

“Where’s Jackson?” Lydia asked, sounding less put-together than she had ever sounded in the time that Scott had known her.

“He’s outside, he’s twitchy from lack of sleep, frustrated from the lack of results, and worried out of his mind.” Scott jerked his head towards the door as he led Allison to his car. Lydia followed him out the door and then walked to Jackson, wrapping her arms around him and curling around his back.

“Lyds...” he sighed, and then said nothing. Both of them stayed in that position for a few moments before untangling and smiling softly at each other. They headed towards the car and Jackson started the Porsche towards the Sheriff’s house. The pack had decided that they would all bunk at Sheriff Stilinski’s house and support the man--also it would be an easier pack quarters to figure out where to go from today’s disappointing results (or lack thereof).

They were a minute away when Lydia’s phone beeped.

“What does this even say?” Lydia grumped as she tried to decipher the keyboard smashing version of a normal text. “‘dfont trspderfk gdft hekdlp’” she spelled out for Jackson and then when they pulled into the driveway, showed her phone to him.

“It looks like...” Jackson paled. “Something’s wrong.”

Lydia’s head snapped up from where she was staring at her phone trying to figure out what it said. “What?”

“It smells strange. There’s Derek’s scent here and something else...and something really familiar that feels evil.”

Lydia dropped her eyes back to the text and it struck her at the same time it did for Jackson.

“Don’t trap Derek get help,” they both blurted out at the same time. Lydia snatched her phone back and started sending a mass text to the pack and right as it sent, the glass of the car smashed into pieces. She screamed as a hand scrabbled at the car and Jackson tugged her with him as he yanked his door open and rolled the both of them out and onto the grass.

“Derek!” he shouted as he looked up to see Derek’s half-changed form, eyes a feral red (but somehow it wasn’t the proper Alpha red color?). “Derek, stop!” he shouted again as Derek lumbered towards him. He scrambled to cover Lydia and protect her but before Derek reached them, a sharp voice rang into the night.

“ _Stop_.” There was silence.

Jackson slowly brought his head up and saw a face he thought he’d never see again.


	7. In Which People Don't Stay Dead, the Betas are BEASTS, and Our Happy Couple Aren't Very Happy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THE TITLE IS THE SUMMARY. IT MAY BE A SHITTY TITLE BUT IT'S AN EVEN SHITTIER SUMMARY. SO. THAT MAKES SENSE.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I couldn't resist and I put it up early *pfft* whatever. Enjoy. (or idk, don't enjoy, w/e floats your boat) I also lied and the previous chapter contained most of the creeper stuff. Um. Also this one is 1600 something? and last one was like 2400 so if it feels short that's why lulz.
> 
>  **WARNINGS** : same as last chapter, watch for the ***** start and then *** closing up the possibly triggering (definitely creepy) parts**
> 
> message me on Tumblr to know what happened without trigger-y things!

***

Jake was oddly at peace with himself. It was the headspace he got the last few (several? many? He’d lost track of the number of times he’d tried to find a new lover and then had to sever the ties) times that he’d done this. Stiles was so--he was so pretty, creamy skin marred with moles that freckled his skin in random bursts of imperfections. He continued to pet Stiles’ upper thigh, rubbing circles just around the young man’s inner thigh. He could feel the softness of the skin even through the loose boxers that he’d let Stiles keep in a mockery of modesty. Ah, yes, this was going well so far.

“I woke up the next morning and he was trying to escape and I was just--I was just so mad, you know? So I--I don’t know, it seemed like the right thing to do, I had a gun from my firearm evaluations that I had taken and forgotten to return. So I shot him, just so he would stop, so that he’d understand.” Jake looked terrifyingly earnest and he nodded at Stiles’ utter stillness. “Yes, I see that you understand, see? I just wanted him to understand as well that our love-making was perfect, it wasn’t as good as my lover’s and me, but it had potential! But he ended up dying in that bed. I had to run away. I’ve tried to find more lovers that could equal my old lover--he’s dead, by the way, did I tell you? He died in the line of action, a hero.” He smiled like a child smiled at someone who was adored, admired.

“I’m honoring his memory, you see? By continuing our love-making. By finding someone that I can love like he loved me. But,” his expression darkened, “I’ll be better. My love will be forever. So far, I haven’t found anyone yet, but I have faith. Maybe you’ll be the perfect one, Stiles.”

Stiles was frozen, paralyzed with fear. He had a clear idea of what Jake planned on doing and he was  _far_ from mentally prepared when Jake leaned over him. Brushing his lips across Stiles’ cheekbones, Jake smiled.

“Well. We’ll try night one, won’t we now?”

***

\--

“‘Derek back, send help, sheriff house,’ oh my god, Boyd!” cried Erica, already sprinting towards the car and dragging Isaac with her. Boyd melted out from the night and merged with her course, not stopping to question why or where they were running.

“Derek’s back and he’s probably in some deep trouble because Lydia just sent a text for help!” Erica shouted as they ran. Boyd nodded at her and realized that what he’d felt vibrate in his pocket was his phone receiving Lydia’s message, several seconds after Erica had gotten it.

Isaac paled even as he raced towards the Sheriff’s house with Erica. They’d been searching the forests on the other side of town and hadn’t brought a car as they’d simply ran here. Now, he was cursing himself for not driving because it would’ve been _so much faster_. They could only hope that they were in time.

\--

Gerard Argent, originally dead but not anymore it seemed, was standing in front of Jackson Whittemore, previously a kanima under the control of said originally dead man.

Lydia gaped at Gerard, for once, at a loss for words.

“How--?” Jackson choked out, fear of losing his wolf to his original kanima self chilling his bones.

“Well, I took a leaf out of Derek’s uncle’s book,” Gerard chuckled. “Except I chose a more dangerous method. Speaking of Peter though, where is he?”

Lydia had managed to pull herself together to snap a reply at him, “None of your business!”

Gerard looked absolutely delighted to be told that. “Why, of course it is! But then again, I already know, so, no biggie. He was irritating Stiles so much that he was volunteered to go negotiate with other packs, right? And you can’t have Stiles being irritated because...” he paused for dramatic effect, “He’s in a _delicate_ condition, right?”

“What are you talking about?” Lydia managed to do a relatively calm façade even though internally she was freaking out.

“Oh, Derek here was very good at telling me things, weren’t you Derek?” he waved a hand at Derek who pulled back his teeth and growled. “Ha, oh wait, Derek, I forgot to let you talk again. So hard to differentiate, you’re just so _animalisti_ c _.”_

_“Leave them alone, Gerard, your--_ ” Derek’s pained and angered words were cut short when the Argent simply waved a hand again.

“I’m going to talk simply now, Derek’s being a pain,” he smiled gently (creepily) at Jackson and Lydia. “I’m controlling Derek, so he won’t be able to help you children. My granddaughter has foolishly chosen the wrong side for her stupid, childish affections for the McCall boy. They’re currently out for the count, so I simply need answers from you two.”

Jackson snarled and Lydia spat in Gerard’s general direction.

“Oh-oh, you aren’t being cooperative.” He waved a hand again.

Jackson couldn’t do anything, too weak compared to Derek, especially with whatever unnatural power that possessed Derek, and so Derek flung him to one side before picking Lydia up, claws placed along her throat.

“No!” Jackson snarled, darting forward but again knocked down with a careless gesture from Derek--no, it wasn’t Derek, it was Gerard and his crazy, evil, possession.

“Listen up, Jackson, “ Gerard snapped, patience wearing thin. “Tell me where your precious Stiles is and I’ll leave you your Lydia in one piece and just a little scratched. Don’t tell me, and you’ll be saying farewell to her within seconds.” So saying, he waved and Derek--the _creature_ ’s claws tightened and Jackson could see the indents being made although skin hadn’t been pierced yet.

“I--”

A loud cacophony of roars, snarls, and grunts exploded on the lawn as blurry shapes barreled into Derek, effectively displacing Lydia (who immediately scrambled into the house to check on Allison and Scott), while a lone shape crashed into Gerard.

“Boyd! Erica!” Jackson shouted, trying to catch their attention, “That’s Derek! You can’t kill him, we have to figure out how to get rid of whatever Argent’s done to him!”

“Argent?!” replied a shocked Erica, who had sat upon Derek’s arms, Boyd sitting on Derek’s legs. “That two-faced, lying _bastard_! Scott said that Allison had talked to her dad al--”

“ _Gerard_ Argent.”

There was silence on the front lawn of Sheriff Stilinski’s house. It was a moment before Erica could gather up her nerves and look at the man who’d taken great pleasure in torturing her, Boyd, and Stiles that one day long ago.

“You fucker,” Boyd breathed, “How did you climb your way out of Hell?”

Erica shot Boyd a grin for that, ridiculously proud of her terrible influence upon her man even at a time like this. She turned back to see Gerard where he was crushed underneath Isaac’s body, he was glaring fiercely (but strangely smug) at the wolves.

“Well, I bargained with a creature from the Ancient Greek myths who somehow ended up in ‘Hell’ with me,” he mockingly said, “It turned out to be a great decision as you’ll soon see.” With that, he jerked his head a bit and Isaac cried out as his pack mates flew through the air when the creature that was possessing Derek simply stood up and shook itself to dislodge the two werewolves. Boyd barely landed before scrambling to tackle _it_ again but had to pause when Erica gave a pained cry. She had landed with unfortunate aim directly into a tree and was crumpled at the bottom of it. When Boyd made to go over to her she simply shook her head and glared imperiously at the monster inhabiting Derek’s skin before her eyes rolled back and she was out.

Only once he’d seen that her chest still rose and fell with even, if shallow, breaths did Boyd turn back around to face Gerard and his thing from Hell. Jackson was picking Isaac up from where he’d fallen when the creature had picked him by the scruff of his neck and tossed him off of Gerard.

“Well?” Boyd inclined his head towards the crazy old man as if to say, _what do we do with the lunatic_?

Jackson grimaced. “Well, now we decimate them.”

\--

Derek didn’t feel right at _all_. He was barely clinging onto any remembrance of who he was, what he fought for--whose _side_ he was on. He could vaguely feel the actions that the _empousa_ was causing him to do and he barely registered the thump when his packmates-- _no, enemies_ \--tackled him. A blur of speech passed before suddenly he was standing up, shaking off the pesky things-- _friends!_ \--dragging off somebody from his captor-- _crazy geriatric_ \--oh god, Stiles was rubbing off on him-- _Stiles!_ \--and then Gerard had a hand on his arm.

“Guys?” he gasped as a moment of clarity, hard-fought, clear-minded clarity burst through his head. “Don’t give him--Stiles!”

And then it was gone. All chance of communicating exactly how much it was necessary to _keep Stiles away_ and safe.

He’d tried his best. It was all he could do and now--now he could feel his mind slipping. The last bit of humanity, of _Derek Hale_ was escaping. There wasn’t even the faintest sense of who we was anymore. He had once last moment of peace and tranquility as Derek Hale and he used it to think as hard as he could:

_Stiles_.

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr](http://alphadragons.tumblr.com) shhhh just come


End file.
